Reflection
by ScribblesTheVixen
Summary: Dumbledore, left in his study, has time to think about Grindelwald. Takes place before the Duel.


**A/N: This is for a competition for The International Wizarding School Championship. I highly recommend checking it out.**

**School: Mahoutokoro**

**Year: 3**

**Theme: Modern Era 1880-1945**

**Prompts: Main- [Pairing] Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald **

**Additional: [Setting] Any Known Magical School**

**WC: 1, 399 (I'm using the 10% under word count.)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter related. All rights go to J.K. Rowling.**

**Enjoy!**

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It was a dreary morning on the school grounds of Hogwarts. Clouds littered the sky and flowers drooped extra low. Some of the students shuffled tiredly to their classes. But it was not as dreary for everyone else as it was for single man who sat tiredly in his study.

Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, placing his hands on the armrest for support as he eased himself off of it. He walked over towards a filing cabinet that stood among many others at the back of the room. Reaching in for what was probably the fifth time that morning, he let his slim fingers travel through the numerous files that took up space in one of the many drawers. Unlike earlier, though, it did not take long to find what he was looking for; he'd practically memorized the spot.

As his fingers firmly grasped an envelope, he tenderly slipped it from its designated spot and held it in front of him. The envelope itself was a cream color and wasn't crumpled in the slightest. On it was the Ministry Of Magic's official stamp and, just below it, his name in black ink. But the one thing that would surprise most - since he'd looked at it five times already - was that it wasn't opened. And that was because he already knew what was in it.

This wasn't the first time he'd received such a letter. In fact, it wasn't the second or even the third, and it certainly wouldn't be the last either. Because the cause of these letters was a matter of great urgency, they wouldn't stop until he answered them.

But what could have made it so crucial as to bombard him with owls everyday? The answer was simple: Grindelwald. A man who had risen to power and thwarted all who stood in his way. And now, it had gotten to the point where he was unbeatable. Well, almost unbeatable.

Oh, yes. See, the reason behind the letters was not just Grindelwald, but it also because of the only thing that could possibly put an end to his reign of terror: Dumbledore himself.

The only problem? He couldn't. Not after everything that had transpired between them. Not after the letters back and forth. Not after the friendship that had developed, and not even after the death of Arianna. For even after everything, Dumbledore still loved him and he wasn't ready to face it.

Funny, how he had always believed that love could be the solution. That love was far more powerful than anything else. But oh, how wrong he was.

Love was nothing like that, at least not for him. Everything he'd ever loved was gone, taken away by his own humiliating actions. So it was clear that this would be the same.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he gingerly placed the letter back in the drawer, leaving it open should he return, and strode over to his desk again. Sitting on top was one of few photographs. It was a picture of when he had been much younger and had been living in Godric's Hollow, after his mother had died. That year had been the first time he'd met Grindelwald. The two had taken this picture just before his sister's death, when everything had seemed fine. As he gazed at his younger self laughing about merily, he couldn't help but wish to laugh like that again. His heart ached for such pleasure.

He fell into the chair, resting his head against the back. His breaths came out with a shiver that ran up and down his spine. It hurt so much to know that the man he loved had to be the one he let go of. If only he had discouraged him from the start. If only he hadn't fanned the flames. It was all his fault, he realized, and he was paying the price.

Life was full of cruelty.

His wand, which had been discarded on the desk since he'd first come down, laid stationary but pulsed energetically. It was like it knew of the inevitable and was only waiting to be picked up to finally meet its match.

Reaching forwards, his fingers wrapped around it, grasping it as tightly as possible.

Time had already passed. Events had already occured. The past could not be undone (well, it could, but that didn't mean it should be). His chances to fix things were over and the love he so desperately cherished could no longer be allowed to exist.

"For the greater good of the wizarding world," he murmured.

A dry, bitter chuckle left his lips. Though it had been long ago, it seemed like it had happened just recently when he had written a letter to Grindelwald with the last sentence being 'For the greater good of the wizarding world.' At that time, it had seemed so right. But now, it was anything but.

His eyes traced over the form of his wand, its erratic pulse beating faster and faster in his hand. It was ready, unlike he was. For the wand, it was simple. All it had to do was duel with its master. But for the master, it was that he had to be ready to face his opponent before being able to duel with his wand. But in the end, of course, both depended on each other.

Similarly, he thought, that was how his relationship with Grindelwald was. When they had been younger, it was kind of like his friend would depend on him to light ideas he came up with and Dumbledore would rely on him to provide some conversation and welcoming presence during the times he felt that he couldn't handle all the responsibility. And as they got older and drifted apart, Grindelwald depended on their friendship- maybe even love- that would convince his greatest opponent not to attack. In the same way, Dumbledore also depended on their friendship- and what he hoped was more than that- to stop him from losing the only good that had come from the younger part of his life.

It truly was like the wand and the master.

How ironic.

He rubbed a hand over his face. Things could honestly be so complicated when they wanted to be. If only things could slow down, come to a stand still. That would make it much easier to handle.

Yet, he'd had the time but refused to utilize it. There had been plenty of time in the years they'd been apart but it had been thrown away like garbage. How much more foolish could he possibly be?

Looking back up at the picture once more, Dumbledore let his eyes wander over it again to take in his friend's features. Grindelwald's head was tilted back, his body only being held up by Dumbledore's. His eyes were looking away from the camera but if you paid close attention, there was an unstable spark that flickered dangerously, like it could burst into flames in any second.

And for the second time, he realized something else. Grindelwald had always been this way. He'd just pretended to pay it no mind, believed it had just been a trick of the light. But now, as he really took in his features, he saw that the man he cared for had always been headed in this direction. It had just been allowed to carry on longer than it should have.

His gaze drifted back to his wand. It continued to pulse energetically, even more so as if it knew what was about to happen. He chuckled a little at that thought. It was comforting to know he could count on his wand when things got hard.

So eyes hardening and jaw set, he placed the picture downwards and tucked away his wand before rising to his feet. He walked towards the filing cabinet and pulled out the envelope. With a single swift motion, it was torn in two and tossed to the side. As it drifted to the floor, Dumbledore strode away and to the door. With one last look at his office, he took a deep breath and pulled open the door.

His wand would get the chance it wished for. No longer could he stand by and watch this reign continue any longer. Innocent lives couldn't be lost again. Things had to change. Grindelwald was done.

And so was he.


End file.
